In sixth grade I joined the band. I don’t remember why, and I have no recollection why the clarinet was my instrument of choice.  Maybe the band director needed more clarinets?  I don’t know.  But I stuck with it through high school, getting by on persistence rather than talent.  I actually made it to second chair my senior year, which sounds good.  But all it really means is that everyone else was worse than me.  And the guy in the first chair was a junior, which says something about how good I was.

But a lot of good things came out of my experience in the band.  Certainly, I developed a love of music.  Pretty much all kinds.  Also, for those in the band, the bandroom was their homeroom.  Every day, a group of 5 or 6 of us would stand around before the bell rang and “cut” on each other.  Kind of a bunch of teenage Don Rickles, you might say.  Survival of the fittest.  Primitive improv comedy.  You learned to think quickly or you got cut to pieces.  I was a survivor.

Another good thing to come out of being in the band was Ann Young.  Ann was a freshman–I was a sophomore–and she, too, played clarinet.  The Bulldog’s football team was playing at Lancaster one Friday night.  Since we were in the band we were there, as well.  While sitting in the stands during the latter stages of the game Ann asked if she could sit with me because some guy was bothering her.  We talked.  We sat together on the bus back to Athens and talked some more.  (The bus trips were always the most interesting part of being in the band.)

I don’t remember which one of us suggested it, but the following week I went over to Ann’s home one evening.  Her family lived in Monticello Apartments which was a good distance away from my house.  Since I wasn’t old enough for a driver’s license yet, I had my dad drive me there.  I think we did a little homework but ended up talking about “stuff”.  At one point, Ann asked me about Bob Dylan.  (This was the late 60’s.)  She wanted to know how I thought his name was pronounced.  Was it “Dill-an” or “Die-lan”?  Quite frankly, I didn’t know who the Hell Bob Dylan was at the time.  But all my life I have been a very lucky person—Vegas gambling and the lottery notwithstanding.  I chose “Dill-an”.  She seemed impressed that I knew the right pronunciation—and it sealed the deal.  She leaned over and kissed me.  Very nice.